They passed through the center of town on their way to the other gate, and the town square was completely packed full of livestock. All of the Pimental’s cows, Odilon’s sheep, as well as every other farmer’s animals were all pressed together. Several [Farmers] surrounded them to keep them in line. Yon was there with Davi’s sisters, but Davi himself was nowhere to be seen. Poco the bull watched over them all with a calm dominance.

Brin and Zilly didn’t stop to chat with anyone and soon arrived at the other end of town. The gate was so packed with the crowds going in and out that Brin and Zilly couldn’t see the other side. The gate was wide enough that two wagons could pass side-by-side, but they weren’t able to see what was going on until after they shoved their way through the press of bodies.

On the other side, the villagers had cleared a wide space and defended it in a ring. There must’ve been four hundred defenders here. Many held the line in a huge curved line around the gate, while others waited to relieve them and still others lay on blankets on the field, having injuries tended to by busy nurses running from person to person. The overall mood was somewhat positive. Men with bloody bandages laying in the impromptu infirmary joked with each other and cheered or jibed the performance of the defenders.

The defenders themselves seemed to have a bit of breathing room. The undead were arranged in orderly rows, and seemed to be attacking in short, almost reluctant engagements before quickly backing off.

More and more arrived from the forest every moment, however, and moved to fill in the ranks. There were many times more enemies here than at the other gates, which must’ve been why more defenders had come here as well. This was the main battle.

The undead numbers were increasing much faster than the town was killing them. Seven giants directed the smaller undead from near the shelter of the trees. There was a band of what must be two-hundred undead archers who stayed back, waiting, as well as another hundred who were armored and much more deadly-looking than the rest. As much as the town seemed to be holding their own for now, it was obvious that the worst was yet to come.

On the human side, sweaty, muddy men waited their turn, some with scuffs or scrapes on their armor, mostly gambesons or leather. They’d obviously gone a round or two against the undead, but he didn’t get the impression that they were tiring or wearing out.

Still, looking at the odds arrayed against them, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy. More undead were arriving every minute. If he had his say, he would have the townspeople attack rather than wait for the undead to organize and form an unstoppable horde. Charge in, break them up. He had a hard time explaining to himself why he felt so certain that that was what they were supposed to do. What did he know about this, honestly? Not much.

One thing he did know was that he was nearly out of time again. Four minutes were left on his timer. He quickly moved past the reserves, formed another pointed glass football, and hucked it at one of the undead that was waiting in reserve on their side. The movement tore his shoulder open again, and it hurt more this time than it had when Basil had cut him. Luckily, it hit the undead he was aiming at, earning him another 5% and another half-hour of higher attributes.

Alert! [Shape Glass] leveled up! 19 -> 20